Acolyte
by K.Henderson
Summary: An honest to goodness ghost story. Scott's been having strange dreams involving Laura. Each and every night she visits her body, her half a body, become more and more decayed mirroring the state of her actual body buried in its plot, and Scott isn't the only one having these dreams that, as the days pass seem less and less like dreams at all.
1. Chapter 1

_Akolouthos_

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Dana leaned against the cold lockers, her mouth filling with thick and iron blood and her body nothing more that a slab of flesh of pain and sour infection. The alphas' claws were sharp and toxic and she knew she was going to die.

_Oh but they are fools aren't they? They don't know why that boy needs to stay alive and why I've really come here to talk to him. They think he's their end, not the salvation for-oh but what does it matter now Dana, you're dead. He's right here, watching you Deucalion, and he'll rip your throat out. No opportunity to make the grand reveal, and I don't want to die but at least now I wont have to live with whats coming. That's the important part._

She's dead a moment later and all thought leaves her the moment the claws tear the supple flesh of her throat and, with only a minimal amount of regret does she have at realizing that her life is now reduced to dying the martyr, nothing more.

You're all going to die, she would have said had she not drowned on her own blood. You're all going to die, screaming. She tried to laugh, instead, it came out a gurgle.

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**Muse: I heard that this might have been her name. If it isn't Dana well, I might go back and change it. So, I hope this isn't too weird, but I haven't written anything in horror in so long that I missed it. Plus, isn't horror always fun, you can hardly go wrong with it. I hop you come to enjoy this little story. Leave a review.**


	2. Chapter 2

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He dreams of half a woman. Her naked upper body is slimy with soil and rot, her eyes are filmed over and look like runny yolk-like mucus. Her arms are powerful and she crosses his bedroom, he's dreaming of his bedroom, and she lifts her half a body up and on his bed, dragging along the way a trail of brackish blood.

The rancid stench that encompasses her reminded Scott of last summer when he'd left a bowl of peaches in his room forgotten during one of the rare moments his dad came around to pick him up for a week during the vacation. What Scott had returned to was a room full of little black flies and rotten mush where the fruit had been.

The woman settled herself on his knees and looks at him imploringly and Scott doesn't scream, too afraid to utter a word or a sound. The woman smiles and her teeth are horrible and near black. She places her hands, icy to the touch, on his knees, leans upward and kisses him.

He screams.

He wakes.

It's morning.

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**~.~**

"That's gross, dude." Stiles entire face squints, flat nose and the flesh between his eyebrows wrinkling in an imitation of a man who'd smelled something more befouled. "Been watching monster movies again? Thought you'd want to get all of that out your system, you know, since personally joining the _monster mash_."

Scott groans at Stiles' stupidity. Stiles wanted to ignore Scott, wanted to pretend that it had only been a troubled and surreal dream. Stiles was, and would be until proven otherwise, in denial.

Because Scott had realized, upon waking in sweat soiled sheets, that the woman was a distorted and horrifying Laura Hale.

Scott knew his dreams, knew well enough about his own inner workings, the long summer he'd taking to discover the man beneath the naive child he'd been hidden by, to know that what he'd seen was a visit from the dead.

"She was real," Scott implores, a whisper. Ms. Blake gives them both a cursory glance but her kind eyes ease elsewhere, allowing the conversation to continue. "It was Laura!"

"Laura's dead. You know. You _saw_." Stiles glance towards the teacher who seemed to now ignore them for the chance to go over something on her desk, his brown eyes slid to Lydia in the seat beside him, bored.

To Allison in front of Scott, to the rest of the classroom. No one listening, no one cares.

"You had a nightmare."

"Says you." He says.

"Says me." Stiles breathes out, shallow on the verge of an attack just thinking about it. "I don't want to talk about this. It's morbid and I'm so tired of morbid. Why cant the dream have been about a hot model falling in your lap. That would have been a damn good vision."

"You're telling me." Scott grins, lips stretching in an all too familiar smile.

"Huge boobs, pouty lips and a come hither-"

"Yeah."

He'd missed Stiles during the summer- don't misunderstand. They'd spent time together the way they used to but, during those seemingly lost moments there were times where Scott could sense the unease in Stiles chemical scent.

The rapid beat of his heart and the rush of blood in his veins. This Stiles, for a brief moment was the old Stiles before the bite before the hell of last year. Before Laura-

For the rest of the period Scott says nothing about the dream.

* * *

**~.~**

The first time Scott had the dreams, though he is unaware, was before Laura had actually died. He can't be blamed for forgetting about these dreams because the Laura in them was alive.

She never spoke, sat only at the foot of his bed as the window behind, with curtains blown wide opened, allowed streams of moonlight to dance across her form and bathe her in silvery light.

He would wake, think nothing of it all, and go about his happy normal, if not lonely existence. Once Laura had died, he'd continued to dream about her, the sliver of a shadow at the foot of his bed, there was no moon light. A pale hand clutching at his ankle, cold.

In later months when he didn't have time to sleep regular hours, he never dreamed.

It is only in his blissful teenage respite, as summer ebbs away, that the dreams return and Scott see's Laura Hale as how she is today, buried deep beneath the ground rotting away, returning to her components, her basic structure falling away to pulpy horrendous rot.

She never spoke and still doesn't, but there is another reason altogether now. In the dreams her mouth opens revealing rotted teeth, and a deep empty black tunnel a void where nothing works.

He wakes after she touches him, kisses him and for a moment's time there lingers in his nostrils the scent of fading rot, on his lips the slime from hers, the chill of gooey flesh-

But he doesn't tell Stiles anything. Stiles doesn't want to hear it, wants to pretend the last year never happened, and there is no way he can tell Allison. She doesn't want to talk to him anymore. He can't tell Isaac. Issac will tell Derek who will come to his 'rescue' worried and afraid of the implications.

Scott could tell Deaton, but Deaton only answers in riddles and half-truths only when the moment is convenient for him and Scott wants, not answers, but someone to unload these small nightly traumas on.

And so, when Ms. Blake gives them some sort of assignment, _write a story any genre. No, kids, really. I want to know what you like, the way you write so I can have a feel for you_- he decides to write it all down. Change the names, make it his. Make it make some sort of perverse sense.

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**Muse: Chapter two. I hope you like it. This is Out of Character. I'm saying this now so as to not get flamed.**


	3. Chapter 3

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People start dying again. It isn't werewolves, and Scott hopes that they are actually animal attacks. He sees Derek and Isaac sparingly but they don't talk. Well, he doesn't talk to Derek. Scott talks to Isaac often, sees him more than he sees Stiles actually. Maybe it's because he's a werewolf and understands, yet he knows deep down that there's something else.

"You and Stiles. You aren't-" Heavily lidded blue eyes squint lightly, he shrugs his shoulders trying to come up with the right words. "You don't hang out anymore. Not really. What's up with that?"

"Nothing." Scott lies. "He's got stuff. I've got stuff."

"That blond chick, you know, that birthday party-"

"She and Stiles...wait isn't she the one that disappeared?"

Isaac nods.

"Damn."

"Yeah." Isaac leans back and runs a hand through his curly hair. "He can't ever catch a break." He says truthfully.

They're parked at a McDonalds, picking at the meals they'd ordered lazily as the radio plays some old 90's techno song that Scott swears might be the Spice Girls. Isaac and Scott do this often enough that the girl usually at the window has begun to call them by name. Well, maybe she knew their names because of school.

Anyway, in these moments of respite from the rest of the world with another wolf, Scott can relax. A bit. He wants to tell Isaac about the dreams, almost does a time or two.

"You're thinking and that is never a good thing."

"What? Is there steam?" Scott, jokingly checks his ears.

"Somethings bothering you. What's bothering you, Scott?" Issac leans a little too closely.

But this is Isaac, who tends to get into anyones personal space, try to seduce information out of anyone that he can. Tactics that would work on anyone else but Scott who knows better and Derek, who'd taught him.

"Do you belive in ghosts?" Scott blurts before he can stop himself. A car passes behind them, the children in the backseat are arguing about happy meal toys. An order is made, the total eleven fifty-five and _please drive to the second window. Have a ni~ce day!_

"Yeah." Isaac says as he leans back at an appropriate distance in his seat. "I mean, sort of. I don't _not _believe in them."

"So you don't technically but you believe that there might be?"

"That is exactly what I said? Wait- are you seeing ghosts?" There is concern in the breathy tone, worry. "Is that why you look like you haven't slept- ghosts?"

"No." Scott lies. "Maybe." He sighs dramatically. "Yeah. Yeah that is exactly it. I keep," Scott rubs his hands on his eyes like he's fighting back sleep or tears, his finger greasy from his fries but he doesn't care. "I keep dreaming about this person that I know for a fact is dead.

They're...dead but they're there, in my room and...its not a dream. Don't look at me like that, it isn't a dream I know dreams and this is not one. She...her corpse is there, rotten and stinking and she doesn't say anything with her mouth and voice but her eyes are trying to tell me...something. I don't know."

"Damn." Isaac looks truthfully, physically shaken. He lays a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder and squeezes. "Just. Damn."

"Yeah. Try being on my end."

"I'd rather not. I don't think I'd look as good without my uninterrupted beauty sleep."

Scott laughs, its dry and raspy. reaches for Isaac's Root Beer and, without care, takes a long gulp from the thin straw. It burns on the way down his throat and rests like a solid piece of ice in his belly. "I don't want you to tell Derek."

"If it's a ghost- okay it's a ghost. A dead person is visiting you and harassing you in your sleep. He might be able to help or at the very least know something."

"No. No he can't know anything. Its too...personal."

"To you I know-"

Scott decides to bite the bullet. He'd told Isaac what he was never planning on telling him anyway and it wasn't like Isaac was a gossip, he wasn't going to run off and tell the world that Scott sees ghosts. He takes a deep breath and says; "It's Laura."

Isaac is gobsmacked, like he's been smacked clear across the face. His blue eyes are wide and frightened. He smells frightened, vibrates in his seat at the very thought of his alpha's dead sister haunting anyone.

"Laura. _His _Laura? Derek's _Laura_?"

"Yeah," He says. "she...I see her the way she died. Half a body." Scott wrings his hands. "Every night she gets more and more decayed. I can't tell him about it, it'd hurt too much. I mean, I might exactly be his biggest fan but I can't do that to him. He's already lost too much."

"What does Stiles say?"

"Stiles says its nightmares. He wants to believe its nightmares. He's afraid of what it means." Scott breathes in and out, shallow. "I...think he's afraid that she's a sort of omen or something."

"You should tell Derek."

"I can't tell Derek."

"You should tell him anyway. He'd want to know, would want to...look if she's really haunting you then Derek needs to know. She might be asking for help. She isn't resting." Isaac struggles with something, his shoulders stiff. "She's...even if she's dead she pack. She needs help, Scott."

"No. He can't know. Promise me, as my friend, that you wont tell him a damn thing."

More vivid the dreams became, if vivid is a word that one would use. More life-like, sometimes it took Scott hours as the sun would rise outside, to realize that he wasn't dreaming anymore that she'd disappeared. An hour to sleep maybe two or three, most lucky he would be it would be four or five-but no more than this.

Laura came, more decayed than the night before, and always dragging her rotted half a body, heaving and sighing putrid breath.

The murky depths of her eyes, now shrivelled and sunken into her precious skull, tied him to his spot, disallowed for him to move in this dream and always she touched him, implored silently with her pale and ghastly face, and kissed him, now with more teeth than shriveled lips.

With a scream he would wake, enough times that his mother whenever she were home at the time from work, had become used to his screams and decided that, it had all to do with what her son had become.

~.~

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**Muse: Chapter 3 was difficult but needed to happen in order to introduce Isaac. I rather like Isaac's character.**


	4. Chapter 4

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The wolves of Siberia were wild and vicious. The wolves of Japan were powerful. The wolves of Africa were, above all, the first wolves that had ever changed to men-surely this is how it all began in Africa. Wolves turned to men to walk with man to better understand them, this is what Derek wholeheartedly believed since the time he was very young.

Maybe this was the reason he found himself feeling cheated growing up. I am a wolf. I don't need clothes or school or to learn the written language of the humans. I am a wolf that needs only my pack and the woods around me.

Growing up and thinking this way led to Kate, who seemed stronger than any human woman he'd ever encountered. With her, for those heady moments of eroticism, he'd decided that perhaps not all humans were so bad. This woman, he'd thought, will be a powerful mate and will breed strong wolves.

Then the fire came and his pack had died in it, burned to ash and brittle bone. Humans, Derek thought again, were evil. The true evil doing evil things under the name of their religion or what morality taught them was the right way.

Derek believed in God, truthfully believed and having grown up Catholic he knew prayers and so many things, of angels and saints, of God and the Devil. But now, as someone who no longer attended mass, because now he couldn't stomach going back to the church where generations of Hale's had attended, confirmations and baptisms had been had. The last having been Peter's new-born daughter just two weeks before the fire.

Derek prayed often for God to forgive him. To bless those around him. To give him the strength to preserver in these hard times and to, ultimately forgive. He had to forgive, his soul needed him to forgive.

The wolf inside wanted vengeance. Take the entire family down, you can do it. Sneak into the house, kill them, rip their throats out in their sleep. One by one. They deserve to die!

The conflict in being a wolf and a man is this. This man wishes to forgive. This man wishes to live life to the fullest despite the tragedies faced because there is no alternative. This man wishes to be free.

This wolf is free. This wolf wishes for pack. This wolf wishes for blood and vengeance, for destruction of its' foes. This wolf prayed to nothing. This wolf lived to protect itself, its pack and the woods. This wolf wishes for blood.

Derek leans back against the thick coverlet, Laura's. He can smell her on the fabric, not as strong just lingering. Finally that afternoon the packages from New York arrived. The old relatives he and Laura had been living with, Liddie and Martin Grady who were both human, had sent their things.

Aunt Liddie's deep voice sad over the phone; _'now you remember to come home when you're ready. Honey you have got to come home.' _She'd said worriedly.

Not all of his things were sent, he realized as he unpacked his belongings. Sheets to fit the bed, violet and white in color, pillow cases to match. T-shirts, underwear, shoes, jeans and a thick wool coat and scarf tucked at the very bottom with leather black gloves in the pocket.

From various boxes there unearthed were basic necessities like plates and tumblers that Laura had purchased on-line, her favorite hero, she'd mentioned. Superman posed primly on the tall glasses. These he tucked into the appropriate places, the cupboard above the sink.

There was an old kettle with a cozy that he appreciated more than he would have imagined. Loose tea in small tins, when he opened them and took in the heady scents, he'd decided on a glass of tea before he finished his unpacking.

Unearthing the small tea infuser had been difficult but, he'd eventually found it tucked into Laura's old jewelry box still filled with her things. The tiny little silver deep-sea diver he'd purchased form some obscure website that sold random and often strange items along with Vintage clothing had sort of...called out to him. So, for Laura, Derek had decided this little tea infuser sea man would be for.

She'd been delighted at the tea infuser and, there after bought loose tea in order to use it as often as she could. _'Little brother this is the greatest thing you've gotten me. Seriously look how cute he is in the water. How cute! Oh stop that! It's not _nothing _if you thought of me.'_

There were other various things that Derek needed, like pots and pans, utensils but anything else he might have wanted had stayed in the Grady's New York apartment waiting for him. Liddie and Martin, both in their seventies and frail had adopted the wild wolf children from California and, despite being unable to understand the wolf in both Laura and Derek they understood family and what it all meant. Maybe it had to do with their age, the fact that perhaps they too had lost so much in the fire, the relatives closest to them in the Grady family, his mother, their niece.

Derek can remember the days after the fire and identifying the bodies-which had been the worst for Laura who'd done it alone. Liddie and Martin, whom both had known only then by pictures, holiday gifts and random phone calls, had all but stormed into their lives, to rescue them it seemed.

He can still remember hearing the tak tak tak of Aunt Liddie's kitten heeled shoes and the squeaking wheels of Uncle Martin's electric wheelchair. Because Laura had only been sixteen at the time and Derek a miserable fifteen, they would have been put in foster care. No Hale's apart from them were left and any other family they did have had been through the marriages of cousins who all perished in the fire. None of these extended in-laws wanted anything to do with them and had no obligation to take them in.

Aunt Liddie's voice had been strong that day. Thick and low, it carried the old southern charm, as did his mother's. He remembers clearly her words to the then sheriff, who'd been sloppy and annoyed by their mere presence, wanting to be rid of the entire affair that had shaken his boring and sleepy little town.

The old woman, decked in a smart wool blue suit and smart creme colored shirt and blue pumps was an affront to him, because she was old and yet so very sure of herself and what she wanted while her old, equally as fine in dress as his wife, stroked his deep white beard and still retained curly thick black hair.

These people, Derek had heard later on from the sheriff's lips (what wonders did his ears manage to pick up from far away and behind thick walls!) Grady's, the sheriff had sneered, were hoity toity, rich bastards who did whatever they so pleased.

_'Now you see here Sheriff, these are my niece's babies in there. They're coming home with me.'_

_'Now, Mrs. Grady-'_

_'I know what you're fittin' to say. I'm old. My husband doesn't walk. You see, had these children been any younger it might have been a bit hard on us but look at them. They're old enough to mind for themselves if need be and you can't tell me any different. They're my babies, my little Tali's babies and aint no back water sheriff gonna tell me different!'_

The funeral for his family had been large and verging on obscene in terms of mourning. No one mourned, not really. The Grady's and what family his mother had were mostly the old ones, who'd attended in old southern style. Jazz funeral. The women with their hats and gloves, the men in their dapper suits and ties to the children dressed primly for the occasion in pastels, it seemed more like an old garden party than anything else, and during the funeral Derek had almost forgotten that he needed to be sad.

His family was gone, it was all his fault, he was the reason- these feeling momentarily taken from him in the celebration of their lives, no matter how short they'd been. Don't cry for them, they're in heaven, they're at rest. Don't morn the dead, love them, celebrate them.

Derek and Laura understood their place in the Grady home, the orphan wards. Of course, they were strung tight, depressed and aware of the change in their surroundings but, all too soon Aunt Liddie and Uncle Martin had taken them under their wings and had never let them have a day dedicated to grief.

That, they would not allow. And so, despite the great and horrible tragedy life went on and for seven years Derek and Laura lived in a beautiful pent house with their gracious aunt and uncle, they had the finest education available and made something of themselves all the while celebrating the family that had passed on.

And then Laura had left, had died and Derek, once again found himself with the heavy weight of guilt upon his shoulders. His fault it was all his fault.

Laura's funeral, well, he'd decided not to bury her in Beacon Hills only because she'd hated the place. Maybe it was because of the fire or because there was an innate part of her since birth that instinctively strode to leave, but Derek suspected it was because of him.

She'd figured it out, she'd told him once in a fit over seeing Kate in New York. She'd looked him in the eye after Aunt Liddie and Uncle Martin had gone out, to the opera if he remembered correctly, and Laura had said that she'd known all along something wasn't right.

_'Couldn't keep it in your pants long enough, right? You just had to be naive, you just had to be stupid enough to tell her everything about us! You got them killed Derek and for what, for some bitch to keep your dick wet? You weren't in love you stupid little boy, you were fifteen, you didn't know what love was!'_

That was two weeks before she was murdered by their uncle, that was also the last time they'd spoken. Laura's last words to him. Good God, had Derek really killed her? No, he hadn't really killed her himself, Peter had. Good old uncle Peter, always good for a laugh was laughing now. When Derek had killed him, because he'd needed to, he'd known that even in hell Peter was laughing. When he'd returned, Peter had done so with a joke. The bastard.

Laura, after Peter's return, after Boyd and Erica had left him and after Jackson had been properly trained, also set to leave yes it was after this that Laura had finally been laid to rest. The old ways that wolves are to be laid to rest, the wolfsbane, the spiral. It had all been done up that way, only Derek there none of the Grady's. Of course, afterward the tombstone had been placed, large and gaudy the way Laura would have liked, with a bench not far away. The Grady's then came with their charm and linen white suits and hats and gloves. Another celebration, to Laura and there was more food than he knew what to do with. He was happy to have left it all behind at the Grady's summer place in Connecticut. He'd never be able to take it with him.

He filled the kettle and set it on the stove. Instead of using Laura's tumbler he'd decided on the lone mug Aunt Liddie had packed. He set the little infuser with its tray on the counter by the stove and mug and waited to hear the mug sing. Well, there were things that needed taking care of. Like the state of the loft, his pack which meant Isaac. Peter could do whatever it was he wanted after dealing with the Alpha pack. That was what Derek had told him, get the hell out-of-town, get out of my life. I don't care what you do. Leave.

The old house had been taken by the county, it wasn't Hale anymore it was just a ruin, though this hadn't hurt Derek like he knew it should have. Maybe it was because he'd decided to celebrate the lives that were lived in that house rather than to mourn the loss. Up until he'd come back this is what he'd done.

Since returning all he'd done was mourn them, they'd all died in the fire, all burned to death. It wasn't like they'd merely choked on the smoke and fell over dead. No that would have been too ideal in this. No, they'd all burned. His parents, his aunts and uncles and his cousins. The youngest only recently born, burning to death in her small crib frightened, in unbearable pain so new to the world to be snuffed out so horribly.

But this is horrible, all of it is horribly wrong. Living in this town when Laura was dead and now buried in a cemetery in New York with the dead Gradys'. He shouldn't have done that, he should have buried his sister with the remains of his family in California no matter how wrong it might have seemed at the time.

Laura was more a Hale than Grady. He'd forgotten that, somehow in the seven years since the fire Derek had forgotten what it meant to be a wolf, instead he'd immersed himself with these kind humans who were a little more than humans sometimes. Laura too- she'd lost herself amid the kindness of the Grady family, had become too used to them being there and everywhere even when they were not, the strange blend of _magic _and something so obviously normal.

But there wasn't a damn thing to do now, Laura was buried far away from her family, was gone completely forever now that there was nothing left for him to do here except to wait for his own demise. Derek was certain that with the alpha pack that he would die.

Don't think about it think about the dreams, he told himself, think about dead Laura in the corner of the bedroom watching you from the shadows. She's trying to speak to you, there's something you need to know. Is she there? Is she a ghost? Hard to tell, but damn you to hell, Derek Hale you ought to listen somehow. You owe her that much you Goddamn idiot. You murdering fool!

Somehow, in his thoughts alone Derek can be so eloquent, so precise in his words. Speaking aloud had never been something Derek was particularly talented with, he'd been always more aggressive and better at expressing himself with actions, with precise manners with his hands and his expressive face. Inside it was different vastly so. He could only wish to meet someone who could read his mind and understand who he truly was, yes if they could allow themselves inside to hear his thoughts, to better understand his meaning, what he couldn't express with his lips and tongue, his very vocal chords unable to work the way they ought to.

The kettle on the stove began to sing, and Derek was thrust from his musings about the dreams and words, he stumbled forward towards it and plucked the kettle from the blistering hot. He turned off the stove and went to work with the loose tea and the infuser, setting it all inside his deep black mug, the scent of leaves and ginger nearly over powering his senses with pleasure. The dreams, his mind returned to them as he blew at the steaming surface of the tea and sipped, the dreams all meant something to the current situation. Laura mingling with half a body in the shadows, smelling of soil and odious rot.

The body, not where he'd buried her, was wrong somehow. Her half, her buried half had a clue to something but what? The child she'd been carrying that died the moment she had? Oh that was a maddening did that child mean? Did she want a name for the baby on the marker? Is that what she wanted? And whose child was it? Who was the faceless father?

He set the mug on the counter and leaned against the space beside it, crossing his heavily muscled arms, he began to think about Laura before her death. Seeing Kate in New York seemed to matter little in his mind. They'd met by accident surely and if not, then whatever agenda Kate may have had with her ended the day Laura died. There was no connection, unless the ghost in his dreams wanted him to extract vengeance for the family, yet this wasn't Laura's style.

She could have killed them all, could have taken her time with strategizing, she'd have made betas for the cause, to order them as she pleased and this, she could have used their Grady relatives who would have jumped for the chance to do it. They were so much about family and protecting your own, after all. But no, Laura had let it go, she wanted to live her own life and allow her brother to do the same. So what did the dreams mean, if anything at all?

In the distance, up the stairs upon the bed that smelled like Laura and home, the cell phone he hated began to ring. He could hear it, tinkling sound a distant song of something. Well, he'd let it die down, he'd get back to whoever it was later. Right now Derek needed a moment to himself. Isaac was in school, he should be fine. Scott wasn't his problem anymore by proxy, neither was Stiles, a sadness that was. The boy was human but clever. Was it Peter? Who cares right now. Peter be damned. Peter can go to hell.

Derek took his mug, sipped slowly allowing the taste to overpower his taste buds, the hot liquid to burn his tongue to taste the scent of the leaves in a way Laura did whenever she drank tea. For Laura, who could never do this again.

**~.~**

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**Muse: The Derek chapter was long. I enjoyed this Derek, and again I can't stress enough that Derek is Out of Character. So no flames please. I rather enjoy making Derek more than what he is, more than brash. I like him intelligent, unable to really get barings on himself, you know. Troubled. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and the Grady's which will play largely in this family, all of them. There are many Grady's I figured upon a large Southern family, the type that all have the accent who have traditions they stick to, the humdrum that sort (that's I'm used to, being Southern myself.)**


	5. Chapter 5

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Bellow there seemed to be something lurking in the twilight. Anna Lee Grady wasn't certain of what lay below, all too concerned with finishing her dissertation than to worry about monsters in the dark. Besides, there were people passing the streets below always, this was San Francisco, her town house over looked sprawling everything, and there was always someone out.

The city that never sleeps isn't just New York. If New York never slept than San Francisco was the city that clearly matched its insomnia. Los Angeles was a clutter of filth, like New York, but San Francisco was its true twin, it never stopped. There was always something to do, always a place to go at any time. The city of artists of bohemia! This was San Francisco. New York was the city of monsters, not San Francisco.

But something lurked below, something waiting for Anna to go outside and down stairs, it wanted her but couldn't grasp how to come inside. Through the door? Grappling up the side of the town house towards her?

She was bitterly afraid, something wasn't right. She wished her roommates hadn't gone out to Sacramento, suddenly she wished she wasn't alone right now. Even with her dissertation, even with all the work she had to do, there was something about having people around that made you steady when you weren't.

She missed Laura, Anna thought of Laura often, the Grady who wasn't really a Grady. What did it matter anyway? Laura was a Grady through her mother, she might as well have changed her name, she was so much like them. It didn't matter that her mother had married some strange mountain man from California.

It didn't matter that she was some sort of mythical being that shouldn't exist. She was a Grady, Derek was a Grady. Nothing seemed to matter at all. The pain inside, she missed Laura bitterly, missed her in a way you'd miss a parent or a child if they'd died. Something wasn't right, something was wrong and it was outside her home. Laura, can you hear me. Please help me.

Anna, whose bright red hair glimmered in the fading twinkling light outside, reached for her cell phone and dialed Derek. He lived close enough, it might take him two hours to get here, maybe an hour if he rode the gas pedal a little heavy. He would if she explained that something was outside, he would be here as soon as he could.

It went to voice mail, she wanted to die. She was so afraid. There was something outside waiting for her. Anna's green eyes slanted slightly, furrowed as she looked outside again, there was nothing there in the darkening sidewalk apart from regular people walking past. She could open the window and peek out that way to get a better look, but chance that the thing could enter that way? No way.

She tried Derek four more time after that until he answered, annoyed boyish voice on the telephone, he sounded angry a little but calm. "Something's outside my house." She'd said, terrified, her little girl's voice high-pitched and whiney. "Derek, did you hear me, something is watching me from outside."

"What should I do?" He asked annoyed, as though he really had no idea that she wanted to see him. She could hear the sound of keys, the movement of heavy fabric-he must be putting on his jacket. "Do you still live on Church?"

"I do." Anna answered, feeling calm already. Derek was coming. She wouldn't have wanted to call him if she could call anyone else, anyone who lived closer. Well she had to make do with her temperamental cousin. They were the only Grady's in California, after all. They only had each other here. "Please, can you hurry. I know I'm probably being paranoid but ever since Christy left this afternoon I've had this horrible feeling of being watched when I'm by the windows. You know this floor where I work only has large windows, and I can't help but be up here. I'm terrified of going down stairs."

"Its fine." A door slams shut, keys in a lock. She hears him walking now, he's coming. "Are you home alone? If Christy's gone-what about Alice? Alice left you too?" The key again, a then a beep. She hears the ignition, the car coming to life. "Where are they?"

"At a party." Anna peeks out of the window again, her face nearly flushed against the cool glass. There's nothing. It's nearly completely dark outside and all she can do is make out the shadows of people walking. This thing could be right there, one of those shadows showing itself to her, mocking her. "I have school work so I didn't go."

"You ought to call them." He says in a sigh. "Let them know something's going on. They shouldn't come home to an empty town house, they'll be worried sick. And if there is something outside then you need to clue them in, okay Anna?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there. Pack a bag Anna. You'll come by my place in Beacon Hills, stay a night or two, you know how you get, finish your work and I'll take you to school to hand it in. Damned if I let you out of my sight until you feel better. You know how you get."

She wanted laugh but she felt pathetic. He knew how she got, when Anna got something in her head, until proven otherwise she'd be on it forever. It was worse when she was afraid. Like when she was hospitalized, thinking that her mother was trying to kill her. How horrible. Anna was just sick, but she was getting better, hadn't Laura said that. You're better now, you're fine. We have you Anna Lee, we got you.

Oh Laura, why did you have to die!

"Anna Lee?" Derek's voice, oh yeah she was talking to Derek. "You there?"

"Oh honey I'm here. I was just thinking."

"Laura." He said. He didn't have to ask. Since Anna Lee had been let out of the hospital, years ago, she'd always thought about Laura. "Me too. I think about her all the time."

Of course he did. She was the only Hale connection he'd had left. Now all he had was Grady relatives, the Grady blood. Oh well, at least he had Cousin Martin and Liddie to watch over him. They loved him so much, like another one of theirs. Lawrence was over the moon for his cousins' who'd lost their family in the fire, Lawrence who didn't bat a lash when his old parents Liddie and Martin had taken them in. Well Lawrence was old too, in his forties at least though you'd never know it, he looked so young.

"I'll be there soon. Wait for my call."

Don't open the windows or the doors, don't let anyone in but me. Be ready. Anna Lee stretched up her freckled arms and wanted to scream as Derek hung up. Instead of screaming or of being at all hysterical, she went to her closet, took out a few shirts, two pairs of jeans and a pair of sneakers.

From her dresser she pulled out a few wads of panties and socks, three bras and shoved them in the duffel beside her tiny bed. Her small bathroom connected to the bedroom by an adjoining door, was easy enough to pack. Hair brush, hair products, toothbrush and toothpaste. Razor. Shaving cream. Soap. Shampoo and conditioner. Makeup. A towel and a terry cloth robe. Deodorant she'd almost forgot that. How embarrassing would that have been.

It didn't all fit in her duffel so she dumped the contents onto the floor, reached beneath her bed for her small suitcase and packed, this time taking the time to fold each article of clothing-more than what she started with. It fit together and this time, with her sneakers she'd decided to also pack flats and boots. She managed to zip the case shut and decided to change her clothes-no shower, she told herself. With that nose of his he'll smell that you didn't shower this morning. How embarrassing! Use mouthwash. Do it. Wait, pack your notes and laptop away. So much to do.

And still the thing lurked in the darkness below.

**~.~**

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**Muse: I love Anna Lee. I love writing her (maybe because she's new) only I forgot to add an accent, which she does have. Anyway, she was particularly close to Laura, as you can see. Don't worry, no Mary Sues. **


	6. Chapter 6

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Worse for wear, is what Ms. Black had told him. She'd been concerned, her pretty face showing exactly what he could catch in her scent. She was afraid for Scott's health, she thought about trouble at home, maybe. She'd even asked him outright after class if everything between Scott and his mother was alright. What about his father? You can tell me Scott, I promise.

But there wasn't anything wrong apart from the dreams, and she wouldn't know anything about that, he wouldn't tell her, that would ruin his assignment, the short story. Well he might have to tell her if she still asked, she was so nice, but there was something private about the way she asked. Like she knew, inherently that something was deathly wrong and that she might have a clue of what it was.

He didn't know, Scott was tired of people lying to him. What if Ms. Blake was lying, what if she was a bad guy? What if he had to kill her, if she was. Maybe she was a hunter, maybe she was working for a hunter? Who knows anymore. He missed his old life, being human with all of it annoying limitations that he'd never gotten to know or enjoy.

Isaac was concerned, of course, so was Stiles. The dreams were getting more vivid, more terrifying. It was hard to determine whether or not Laura was actually in his room when he woke up. Would she by lying there beside him, the gruesome corpse that couldn't help but smile because her skin had dried and almost peeled back her lips? Disgusting images, the scent lingering so much that now, even if Isaac had never believed it, he could smell the death on him. What did any of it mean?

"Derek's gone." Isaac's voice on the phone. It's late outside and Scott, too afraid to go home to an empty house, is with Stiles. He pauses the game, Stiles' gives an annoyed snort, and Isaac sounds panicked.

"Do you know where he is?"

"He said he was picking up his cousin. Something happened. He wouldn't really say." Scott could hear the crinkling of a wrapper in the background of Isaac's phone. "He doesn't ever just leave without telling me first. He always lets me know what going on."

"Maybe she's in trouble-wait. I thought Derek didn't have any family."

"He doesn't. Well didn't. I didn't know." A sigh. "There's a lot I don't know about him."

Isn't that the truth. There's always something with Derek, always a lie or something that should have been said but never was. This is why Scott didn't want any part of him, he needed everything laid out on the table, he needed all the information he could get. With Derek, that would never happen. Derek was the type of man who kept too much hidden because it gave him power. Whatever, Derek wasn't his alpha anyway. Who cares about Derek?

"How are you feeling?"

How was Scott feeling? Exhausted. Antsy. Afraid. Something bigger than he was going on and Scott didn't know whether or not staying at Stiles' house would keep the dreams away. God willing, please keep Laura out of my head!

"The same. Maybe worse." Scott answered honestly. He leaned his shoulder against Stiles' shoulder, taking in the familiar warmth beside him. Stiles. You can never go wrong with Stiles. Stiles was always a comfort even before this. "I'm staying at Stiles' place tonight." He winked at his friend who winked right back.

"You think that'll help?"

"Yeah." Scott said. "I really do."

The ding of a microwave. A door slamming. Isaac's breath in his ear over the phone. Scott sort of wished Isaac were here too. He shouldn't have to be alone. "I still think you should tell Derek."

"I might. If I have to."

"Sure. I'll call you later."

The lines disconnect and Scott looked around the blue room taking in every familiar corner, crevice and poster. He should be safe here tonight. Stiles, beside him lifts a bowl of popcorn that had been sitting in front of them on the floor, he offers this to Scott with a smile. "Hungry?"

"A little." Scott takes a handful and shoves it into his mouth, chewing a few times before swallowing. "Derek's got a cousin."

"Really?"

"I thought he didn't have cousins anymore. I thought they all died."

Stiles shrugs. He didn't particularly care at the moment about Derek, as jittery as he was with tonight. About the dreams he'd wanted to pretend were just dreams in the beginning. Maybe it had to do with the girl Stiles' liked that went missing, maybe that's why Stiles hadn't wanted to believe. Who knows.

**~.~**

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Muse: And right back to Scott. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed these first few chapters. I'll be coming back in with more when another round of inspiration hits me.


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